To Build an Empire
by 3VAD127
Summary: AU. The story has begun, and so it will end. But maybe not quite the way Kim had in mind. She soon learns the hidden motives behind Ron's behavior and starts to see him in a different light. Rated for violence in the final chapter. Now COMPLETE.
1. The Challenge

**Disclaimer:** _Kim Possible_ © Disney. I own this work and its prequel.

**Author's Notes:** In case y'all don't know, this story is the sequel to "Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold." No, you don't _have_ to read that first (I'm not exactly proud of it), but this story might make a little more sense if you do.

And now, on with the people who so kindly reviewed the first story: Jason Barnett , the Desert Fox, momike, conan98002, Dr. J0nes, CastaS, moi, Tragic warrior, SapphireSora, The Real Sidekick, bigherb81, and Shegofan.

Sooo, a few of you guys might be wondering, "What took you _so long?!_" Well… better late than never, y'know? I hope to answer all of y'all's questions in this story. If not, tell me! I'd be happy to PM ya or something.

**To Build an Empire**

"_The Challenge"_

Brown. Dark brown. That was the color of his eyes.

Ron Stoppable's stupid friend had always said his eyes were the color of coffee in wintertime. How disgusting. Coffee. It was like some sick joke—she was trying to bandage up the hurt of her rejection with a friendly complement. Like, "Oh, I don't want to date you, marry you, and be your soulmate. I've ruined your life with this rejection. But you have pretty eyes!" That was just sick and wrong.

Wrong-sick.

The former teen sidekick stood before a large glass window, looking down onto the bustling streets below. He was positioned high in the main room of his tower fortress in the center of downtown Middleton. He and… well, his old self and that _girl_ had spent so much time here that it only felt right it should be the first to go. World domination and all that. It was now his capital, standing tall and dark against a swirling midnight sky. He hated Kim Possible, so he took her hometown first. He thumbed his nose at her.

Ha.

She had no power against him. No one did. And he savored every second of it.

He was reminded of coffee-colored brown once again as he caught his reflection in the window. Dark, cynical, maniacal… with just a tinge of the underlying intelligence Ron knew was there. He was smart. He was fast. He was good. So good he was _bad_. Very, very bad.

World domination had been easy for someone like him. It had been only six months since he had escaped from prison, but already he had taken out all of the U.S., Canada, South America and Australia, and most of Europe. There were a few random Pacific Island nations that he hadn't bothered to invade yet, and Switzerland and their cursed military defenses had yet to fall. But they would. Eventually. Time would show them who was boss. He had also adopted various viceroys and presidents to run the lesser portions of the world. He was their supreme leader, but the truth was, he just couldn't do it all by himself. He needed help. So Zorpox enlisted the services of a few of his… friends (along with some _very_ detailed descriptions of what would happen if they revolted), and left them to their peace. He had destroyed all the banks, churches, and communication businesses, so money wasn't necessary. He commanded countries to grow and manufacture and trade what they had with other countries. If they didn't, they would be annihilated.

Just look at what happened to Norway. They caught a bunch of fish, didn't want to share, so _boom!_ Now they're a nuclear test site. Last he heard, it was a floating radioactive wasteland somewhere in the northern Arctic Ocean. Not like he cared, though. Those dumb Norwegians were weird, anyway.

Zorpox's stone-cold face cracked ever so slightly to allow a smile. Think of it: slaughtering thousands, maybe millions, of people just to keep everyone else in check. Just as a public spectacle. Just to show everyone else how powerful he was. "Mess with me, and you shall die," he had said to them. All the other Scandinavian countries shared their fish after that.

He loved that. He reveled in it. Drank it in every day as billions of people sang his praises in thousands of languages, 193… erm, 192 countries across the world.

Now _that_ was power.

Ron shifted behind the paned glass which shut him off from the world he controlled. He didn't consider himself a cruel dictator by any means. He didn't purposely torture people just for his own sick pleasure. He made sure that all deaths were quick and as relatively painless as possible. They served as an example to everyone else: "I am your leader; do not cross me!" He thought about putting an "or else" in there somewhere, but it would've been ferociously redundant.

In fact, the people actually enjoyed having him as their ruler. In the very beginning of The Last War (that was what they called Ron's rise to power), he had destroyed all technology of any kind. Machine guns, submarines, heat-seeking missiles, anything and everything. There were commercial jets, of course, but none of them were equipped with weapons of any kind. Period. The people loved this because if there were no weapons, there would be no war. Of course, there was always the threat of underground bomb factories, but once he gained absolute power, it was fairly easy to rat these out and make a public display of them. War was bad, and he made sure everyone knew it. It was taught in the schools, transmitted over the radio and television, and even posted on banners in public places like the downtown plaza.

Kids could now grow up in a society where nothing was bad. War, nuclear bombs, and terrorism were foreign words only to be experienced in a textbook. Never would they happen in real life.

Of course, in the beginning of The War, Zorpox had been forced to equip all of his synthodrone soldiers with high-tech weapons of his own design. And some of the battalions out there in Switzerland and the Pacific Isles still toted around AK-47s and old-fashioned M-5s. But as soon as his last soldiers came home, he would destroy the remaining ten percent of the world's weaponry. The only things that would be left were swords, scabbards, and bow-and-arrows. If he kept the world in the Dark Ages, they couldn't fight each other as effectively—and they couldn't revolt against _him_.

Zorpox the Conqueror paced around his main throne room. He wasn't a pompous man like Drakken or Dementor; he preferred to call it "the Throne Room" just because it sounded cool.

Like he ruled the world.

Which he did. Obviously.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Proceed," Ron called out. The huge double doors creaked open, revealing five shadowy figures. They all stepped forward in a line at his request and continued to move toward him. They stopped a few feet away.

Zorpox was still gazing out over his kingdom. "Report."

A blue-skinned man standing beside a velvet-tressed woman spoke up. "All is well in Drakkanada, sir," he said. "Also, our citizens in France and Germany, also known as New Shegovia, seem to be warming up to our rule." Drakken seemed a bit jittery as he cautiously moved behind Shego. He knew how moody a superbad Ron Stoppable could be.

Shego said, "Everyone seems to be getting along fine so far. They're done pouting since you destroyed their weapons, sir, and they've moved on. New Shegovia," she spoke the words as if tasting something wonderful, "has become, once again, the most productive country in Europe."

"Very good." Ron still had his back to them. "Killigan?"

This went on further. Killigan ruled Ireland and Scotland (dehr), while Monkey Fist and his ninjas controlled Japan and a bit of southern China. The fifth figure, a woman by the name of DNAmy, opted to stay in Japan and rule beside her beloved "monkey king."

Ick.

Ah well. As long as they obeyed him fully. Five and a half months ago, word of his escape from San Quentin had circulated throughout the villain community. Every bad guy, thug, and thief in the universe was vying for his attention, hoping to suck up to the man upstairs—him. They all wanted the same thing he did: Power. That's what it was always about.

But he only gave control to those who earned it in his eyes: the five (well, four) most notorious villains he and _she_ had ever fought together.

He sent the villains away, content to let them rule their provinces in peace.

_She._

Her. That girl. That awful, God-forsaken, horrible, lying, cheating, whimpering gnat known as Kim Possible. Make that Kim _Mankey_.

Ron spat on the ground. That name left an awful taste in his mouth. Bleh.

He looked at his watch. That reminded him—it was almost feeding time. It would be a sin to let another man's wife and unborn children die of starvation.

----------

Zorpox ambled downstairs into his fortress style dungeon. Many prisoners from his old life found their way down here. People like… Joshua Wendell Mankey.

He passed by Monkey's cell, his footsteps echoing loudly off of the cold stone surfaces. He heard the prisoner's soft moan for help, but pretended to ignore it. Joshie wasn't a concern of his. He could survive another few days without meat. Kim, on the other hand…

Zorpox the Conqueror walked on, head held high, as he felt the quivering masses glance at him. They feared him. They respected him. They gave him the recognition he never received in high school.

His genius. Booyah.

He felt like laughing, but held it in.

When he finally arrived at his destination, he shoved a key from his belt loop into the lock and creaked the heavy door open. There she was, sitting on the bed. Bright red tresses falling long past her hips. Vacant green eyes staring expressionlessly at the opposite wall.

Ron felt his body stiffen with hatred. She was very large with her babies, being in her ninth month of pregnancy. When he had last fought Poss… er, Mankey in Drakken's old lair, she was barely three months pregnant. It was just enough to get a fair ultrasound, but not too much to keep her from jumping around like a hyped-up cheerleader.

Now, six months later, her belly was swollen with her firstborn children, and she was ready to go into labor at any moment.

Zorpox had thought long and hard about what he was about to do. But every time he mulled it over, he came to the same conclusion: It was no good to have babies without their mother. He certainly didn't have the time nor the will to take care of them. It was better for everyone if he let Kim off the mind control to birth her children.

Besides, he heard childbirth could be quite painful.

He walked over to her, never once hesitating. Ron stopped beside the bed in front of Kim. She looked up at him with an empty stare. "Hello, Master," she breathed.

One great thing about mind control was the total and complete loyalty to _him_.

He liked to play games with her mind. It was fun. "Hello, Kimberly," he said coolly. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh yes, very much."

His expression never changed. "What would you like to eat today, servant?"

Kim's mind was still under the chip's control, but her face managed to morph into an expression of desperation. "Anything, I don't care. I'm just… so very hungry today."

Ron nodded. "Yes, you haven't had much to eat yet. Come with me and I will fix you something."

She followed obediently, like the slave girl she was. Then again, Kim didn't really have a choice.

Ron led her through his fortress, never once suspecting treachery. She was under his control, and she couldn't get away without his permission. He walked into the kitchen and started preparing a meal, not really bothering to see if she had followed or not.

Of course she had.

She sat down at the sturdy wooden table and stared at him as he cooked. Ron felt her eyes on him, but didn't trouble himself to turn around. She was being mind-controlled, for goodness' sake; she was probably thinking about what she could do for him after dinner was over.

In just a few minutes' time, Ron had prepared a wonderful yet simple meal—chicken cordon bleu. That is, chicken stuffed with cheese and ham slices. He added a light vinaigrette salad on the side, served with apple wedges and scalloped potatoes. Kim still stared at him.

"Eat," he ordered. She obeyed willingly.

Zorpox watched as his prisoner devoured one, two, three steaming platefuls of food. It was amazing what a pregnancy could do to your appetite. He stood up, gathered the dirty dishes, and dumped them in the sink. Then he led her to the bathroom, where he locked her in and ordered her to use it.

Kimberly knocked on the door when she was finished. "All done?" he asked. She nodded. Ron still couldn't get over the fact she was so… large. Her nine month period had added a few pounds around her butt and thighs, but most of the weight went to her tummy. As women sometimes do, she had to lean backwards a little bit to keep her balance. Ron doubted she could see her toes.

Instead of putting Kim back in her cell, he led her to his totally awesome throne room. Here they would both take a look at the world as it was—and maybe catch a glimpse of what it _could_ have been.

Zorpox the Conqueror stood, emotionless and stoic as usual, in front of his window. Kimberly stood behind him. It was almost time for him to take off the mind control chip; but he still had time to wait. Everything in life had a specific order. If he went outside this order, his plan might go… well, not according to plan.

As the sun was setting, the blue villain turned to his red-headed prisoner and stood before her. "KP," he said, lovingly, and for a moment one might assume the old Ron was back.

Don't make that mistake. He wasn't.

Zorpox continued on, "You've caused me so much pain these past few months, Kimberly." He reached up to stroke her cheek, but her gaze was as lifeless and empty as ever. His soft tone was even more disturbing than if he had been shouting at the top of his lungs. "No more," he said. "You know as well as I do you don't have to be a prisoner anymore."

He cupped her cheek, as a lover does his own wife. He ran a gloved thumb over the chip on her forehead. "Just behave, Kimberly Ann, and I can offer you anything you want. I can give you _the world_."

Ronald leaned in, his freckled cheek brushing hers. He whispered, "Just ask."

And with that, he flicked off the chip, standing back and viewing his handiwork. Kim Possible was back, baby. And she belonged to him.


	2. The Sitch Gets More Complicated

**Disclaimer:** I own this work of fiction and its predecessor. However, Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Zorpox the Conqueror, Josh Mankey, and all other bit characters belong to Disney, not me.

**Author's Notes:** I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it took me _forever_ to get it just right. I curse OCD.

Wow, the response I got on the first chapter was incredible! I really didn't expect it to do that well, but it got better reviews than I had hoped. Many, many thanks to The Real Sidekick for his continuous support and critique, even when I really sucked. You rock, man. Also, a shoutout goes to Isamu for his awesome feedback. Much appreciated!

**To Build an Empire**

_"The Sitch Gets More Complicated"_

Kim didn't quite know what to think. For six months, she had been semi-aware of what she was doing, but the mind control hadn't allowed for much. Kim remembered climbing into the police car after she and Rufus had foiled Ron's plans… that sounded so wrong. After that, she drank some warm stuff – coffee? – and sat back to enjoy Josh's presence. Yes, she recalled a few events here and there, but for the most part…

So it was with great trepidation Kimberly opened her eyes. Her vision swam, then finally came into focus. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Hello."

"R-Ron?"

He nodded. "Welcome back to the land of the living." She looked confused, so he said, "In case you haven't noticed, you've been under the influence of a mind control chip for the past six months."

Kim looked shocked and a little confused. She touched her forehead. "Mind control?" she echoed.

"Yeah."

"So…" Kim's mind raced. She couldn't remember much, just a few slices here and there. Apparently, the chip had been upgraded. She looked around, trying to take in her surroundings. A spacious room with many windows overlooking scenic downtown Middleton. A huge crescent-shaped desk was set up in the center of the room, facing the two large double doors behind her.

The redhead noted the look of complete indifference on Ron's face. "Wait… You did this?"

His features flickered slightly at her voice. But only slightly. "So what if I did?"

Her fists clenched angrily. "You freak of nature! I can't believe you had the… the gall to go and do something like this to me!"

Ron/Zorpox chuckled—a strange combination of malicious humor and complete insanity. This only fueled Kim's fury, and she charged at him. He caught her easily and spun her around, wrapping one strong arm around her neck and one clenching her left wrist. He growled, "If you value your life and those of your children—" her eyes traveled downward, "—then I suggest you realize your place here and stick to it." Kim was so shocked she didn't even fight back as he let her go. Ron walked over to a window and proudly swept out his arms, displaying his kingdom like a shiny new car.

"This," he said, "is my world. You're just living in it." Hmm. Déjà vu.

Kimberly's mind fought to keep up. "So… all this time, you've been busy taking over the world?" She was still furious, but this conversation was most definitely _not_ going the way she had thought. She planned to just lay low and play along until she found an opening to escape or do some damage. Maybe she could get him to monologue about how he did it, how brilliantly his plant went, blah blah blah.

Just like all the other villains.

"Yes," Ron said. "I've been pretty busy. Destroying this, taking over that, implanting viceroys here and there, you know the drill. It's actually pretty tiring; now I know why Drakken was so PO'ed when you and I always beat him down. Y'know, back in the day."

_Back in the day._ The words surprised Kim. Even before she had been controlled by that chip, she had always thought of Zorpox as a villain. Ron was a goofball sidekick, Zorpox an insane bad guy. They were two totally different people.

Right?

Kim could feel her anger resurfacing. "You're just like the rest of them, _Ron_," she spat. "All those villains we fought 'back in the day.' All you want is power for _you_, money for _you_, worship of thousands for _you_." She stopped, then spoke quietly. "When we were friends, you never would have dreamed of doing anything like this."

Ron was staring out his window to avoid her gaze. And for the first time in six months, he felt a tug in his chest. It was the sort of thing that could only be the result of decades of friendship and over a year of serious dating.

"Yeah, well… things change." And then it was back—the hard outer covering that had destroyed thousands, left millions homeless, and dictated an entire planet.

Kim only stared after him, wishing he would turn toward her. Ron had hated her… that word hurt so much… he had hated her for so long. Six years. She had no idea. Only six months ago had they become "enemies."

And though she still hated who her best friend had become, her heart could not ignore the strong friendship and intense bond they had shared, just the two of them. She asked, "How did it come down to this?"

He didn't answer. Not like she expected him to. He wasn't the only one who had screwed up someone else's life, anyway.

----------

Now that Kim wasn't a prisoner anymore, Ron had a few of his synthodrones set up an extra bedroom with an attached bath just for her. The redhead was lying on the cushiony double bed, stroking her belly and staring at the ceiling. It had taken a while for her to get used to her advanced pregnancy, but she did it eventually. She was strangely contented to know that she had "skipped" six months of the gestation period. Now her children were to be born any day, and she was feeling some serious butterflies. But she would be OK.

'_Just like all the other villains.'_

The sentence popped into her brain without her consent. Did she really put Ron in the same category as Dementor and Monkey Fist?

A few years ago, she would have scoffed at the idea, maybe even gotten angry. No way Ron, her Ron, was ever capable of anything like that.

Well.

He sure showed her, didn't he?

Kim ran a hand through her waist-length hair and flipped it over the ivory pillows. Why didn't she see this before? How could she not see how smart and talented her best friend was? Why hadn't she pushed Ron to develop his skills?

She didn't want to admit it. But months at the mercy of another person bigger than you, stronger than you…

Someone you used to know…

It felt strange. Kimberly was usually the one on top. She called the shots, she was the girl who could do anything, yada yada. Until Ron had come in and put her in her place. Kicked her down a notch. She wasn't sure if she should be furious or grateful. She now realized she had to be completely honest with herself.

"I didn't want Ron to develop his skills because I was afraid he'd get better than me."

That was it. So Kim had finally admitted it to herself. Instead of letting her BFF get ahead and receive the attention he deserved, she chose to let Ron hold it all in. But now it had backfired—all that talent and skills had exploded in a twist of anger and vengeance.

She hated irony.

----------

Ronald stood before his window, staring down over his domain. He ruled all he could see and beyond that. But something still wasn't quite right.

It was a feeling kind of like unease and suspense, except… different somehow. He dominated the government, he controlled all the nations of the world, but there was still a little something wrong. Ron had always thought his heart was as black and as hard as a piece of obsidian—at least after Kim had done him wrong. But when he awakened the green-eyed woman… just for a split second… it was like finding a small vein of silver running straight through the middle.

Ron rested a black-gloved hand against the glass. He had long since hung up his old Zorpox costume in the closet in exchange for a sleek, dark combat outfit. No cape, for obvious reasons. The long-sleeved top, neat belt, and custom-designed pants were set off by the combat boots. It said, "I am your dictator, but I am not afraid to come and fight for what I believe is mine."

Ron liked it a lot better than those red tights. Ugh.

He also had a watch, designed and built by him, that could cast a holographic image to change his skin tone from a freakish blue to a more normal hue. This was useful if he ever decided to go out and mingle with the people. Throw on a disguise, turn on the watch, and suddenly he's just like everyone else.

A nameless synthodrone entered the chamber. "Sir," it said.

Ron turned to face his lackey. "Speak up."

"I and my comrades are programmed to examine all situations and ensure you and your empire's safety."

Zorpox frowned. "Has there been a security breach?"

"No," it said, "but we are concerned about your prisoner."

"Kim? She is no longer a prisoner and free to roam about the fortress as she pleases. If you have done anything unnecessary…"

"Oh, no sir! We were just worried she might perhaps escape…" The synthodrones were programmed not to show any emotion, but Ron could've sworn he saw a full bead of sweat drip down its face.

And then Ron Stoppable did something surprising for a normal human being—he let out a laugh. A big, insane, disturbed laugh that confirmed the idea he was out of his mind. "The downfall of my empire? As if! Do-Don't you guys worry; this fortress is impossible to get out of anyways."

Ron could feel no doubt emanating from the henchman. Still laughing semi-hysterically, he sent away the synthodrone and plopped down in his chair. It was the one at the head of the semi-circle desk, with twelve others positioned around the outside. Ron propped his feet up and sighed. "Synthodrones… good stuff, man."

----------

Kimberly had only been asleep for an hour, maybe an hour and a half when a blaring alarm startled her from her dreams. Flashing red klaxons popped out of the ceiling in the hallways and in each of the rooms. She peered out the doorway of her bedroom and saw uniformed synthodrone guards rushing back and forth. One dressed differently than the rest knocked on the door across the hall from her. She couldn't hear what he said over the alarms, but she saw Ron step out of the room, fully dressed, shortly afterwards and rush down the hallway. He was headed for the computer mainframe.

Not wanting to be seen, Kim retreated back into her room and lay on the bed. A few short minutes later, the alarms stopped and the flashing red lights turned off. There was a knock at her door.

"Hmm?"

Ron stepped in and leaned against the doorframe. "I thought you might be up," he said. "Sorry about that interruption."

"What happened?"

"Just the remains of GJ trying to form together in a last-ditch effort to bring us down." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Tried to send us a Trojan horse attached to an E-mail. Kinda lame, but I guess it's all they got since their entire computer mainframe got fried, along with all their best agents."

Kim was disgusted that he could talk about murder so flippantly. But she hid it carefully beneath her façade. "So what did you do?" she asked, trying to sound genuinely interested.

Ron either didn't notice or was hiding the fact he knew about her fake. "I wrote a mega-virus and sent it to them straight out. Their firewalls were so weak, anyway, they couldn't stop a porn pop-up written by a fifteen-year-old."

Kim looked at him. "What now?"

He shrugged. "GJ is gone, the world's police force is gone… there's nobody left to stop us."

"Us?"

Ron walked over and stood in front of her. She stared at him with wide eyes. "Yes, us," he said. Kim tried to swallow a lump in her throat.

"What about Josh?" she stuttered. Kim felt so stupid, acting like a scared little girl. But if it helped her carry out the plan, then she would do it.

Ron grinned. "I've got big plans for him." He moved closer.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Yes, I would. And you know it." He leaned down, and their faces were only inches apart. Disturbed brown eyes met scared yet curious green ones. "Besides," he continued, "you never _really_ cared for that Joshua Mankey character, anyway."

Now Kim was angry. "How dare you say that about me and Josh," she growled. Her hand flashed out to slap him, but he caught it. The redhead examined Ron's face for any sign of emotion, but she could see none. She had the sinking feeling she was in big trouble—kind of like when she was a little kid waiting out her father's punishment in her room. She gulped.

Ron just stared at her hand—the left one. He carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden band. "Look what I found in the dungeon the other day," he said, glancing at her. Still no emotion. He gently pulled off Kim's diamond wedding ring. "And now I have a complete set. Lucky me." He put the rings back in his pocket.

Kim licked her lips. He was so close… "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to forget about that freak Monkey and let me handle him."

"You know I can't do that. He's my husband."

Ron grinned. "Not anymore."

Kim gaped. "You can't do that!"

"Yes I can," he said cockily. "I rule the world. I can do anything."

"Hey, that's my—! … Ngmmmm…" Kimberly was cut off from her rant as a pair of lips pressed against her own. She flailed her arms, not sure what to do. Ron was kissing her. Kissing her! But he was way too late. She was already involved with someone else.

Kim pushed him away. "What were you thinking?" she gasped. "You can't make me cheat on Josh like that!"

Ron gave her a half-smile. "First of all, you're not married to him anymore—"

"Yes I am! You can't—"

"Shut up," he said forcefully. "I'm talking. That means you're not." Kim got silent. "And second of all, I didn't hear you complaining. If I'm not mistaken, you were kissing me back."

Ron looked at her, then walked out of the room. Kim buried her face in her hands. This was so messed up.


	3. Birth and Death

**Disclaimer:** "Kim Possible" and all related titles, characters, and logos © Disney, Bob Schooley, and Mark McCorkle. I own this particular work of fiction.

**Author's Notes: **No, I haven't been ignoring you guys; I've just had a lot on my plate lately. February has been a big month for me so far. Thankfully, science fair is over so no more papers; drivers' ed is drawing to a close so I have more time after school; and all I have to do now is finish up with my friends'/relatives' birthdays. Whoo, life's such a rush. (-.-)

So anyway, I finally got around to writing this chapter! Sorry for the insane delay, but I've been working on my many other projects: _KIM: Owner's Guide & Maintenance Manual_, _Cabbages and Cactus Juice_, and even _Who's Your Daddy?_. C'mon, you guys, it's not very fair to devote my attention to only one story at a time. All these other -shots need some LOVE, too!

Ooh, almost forgot! Thanks to The Real Sidekick, Solarstone, and Aqua94 for reviewing last chappie. I apologize for the super-short chapter.

**To Build an Empire**

"_Birth and Death"_

Kimberly Ann awoke in the middle of the night, her palms sweating. She glanced around, still drunk with her sleep and wondering why she was jerked so forcefully out of her slumber. Just then a wave of pain enveloped her body; it felt like her abdomen was being squeezed until it was about to burst. She grunted painfully and touched her stomach. A kick.

_Baby._

Her brain kicked into autopilot, and she barely checked into a semi-conscious maternal instinct mode before she thought, _I gotta call Ron._

There was a pounding in her head, like thousands of waves pummeling the sea rocks below. She gritted her teeth and felt beads of sweat pour down her forehead. Wiping sticky tendrils of hair away from her brow, she secured the sheets with one hand, gripping and twisting to keep the pain at bay. The red-haired woman then reached her hand out awkwardly for the bedside table, fumbling for the landline phone.

She grabbed the receiver, not really knowing how to work it. She wiped more sweat from her brow, trying to figure out which button to push. But before she even got a good look at it in the dim light of her darkened bedroom, she heard his voice on the other end. He sounded groggy and half-asleep, kind of like the old Ron used to sound like.

"Hello?" His voice was gravelly from lack of use.

Kim felt sweaty, disgusting, and exhausted, and she had only been up for three minutes. She had to even her breathing so she wasn't panting into the receiver. "Ron," she said heavily, "I need you t-to…" _Choose your words carefully._ "…I need you to come down here… right now. It's… urgent."

His voice lilted teasingly. "What's the magic word?"

She growled, but held back from uttering a sharp, _'Shut up, Ron.'_ Instead, she decided to play along and attempt to stay on his good side. "Please?" God, she didn't mean to sound so desperate.

She heard him chuckle—so irritating. "I'll be there." Click.

Kim resisted the urge to squeeze the living crap out of the phone, and instead put it back in its cradle. She gripped the bedspread with both hands and tried to control her breathing. Sweat dripped from every pore. All the missions, all the injuries—broken bones, lacerations, displacements, cuts, and burns… never before had she felt pain this intense. It washed over her whole body, enveloping her in a shockwave of contractions. Her muscles quivered and spasmed, and her whole body was on edge.

Her brain tried to shut off the pain, but there was too much of it. Enveloped in heat and shaking uncontrollably, the heroine couldn't keep one random thought out of her mind: _I hope Ron brings some Tylenol_…

--

Kim's head ached and her vision swam. Her body cried out to her, desperately pleading with her mind to simply shut down and let it go—but she could not. A few flashes of light…

She was wet all over. Sticky. Was it sweat? Or maybe blood…

It was hard to discern what was going on. Her nerves were on fire, but her ears were being soothed by a gentle voice. It was smooth and calm, piercing through her darkness and bringing her through the other side. She was vaguely aware of the cool hand firmly gripping her straining, slippery ones.

This torture seemed to drag on for hours… maybe days… most likely hours, until she felt herself twist and clench, then stretch… She strained, and finally a small cry echoed through the metallic room. Kimberly smiled lethargically through her haze. The second one was easier, and soon another wail broke the silence. Satisfied, she lay back against the pillow.

She was asleep.

--

When Kim Possible finally came to again, the first thought in her mind was, _I can't believe it._

She had done it. She had finally birthed their first children! Something strange and tingly rushed through her body—it was like the adrenaline rushes of her crime-fighting past, but with a different twist. She guessed it was just the high of finally being a parent.

She struggled through her fog, like all of us do as we begin to awaken. Her mind broke free of sleep's restraint, and she stretched as much as her stiff body would allow…

_Oh no._

She remembered him being there, she remembered the delivery. She must've blacked out… fallen asleep… right after her second came out. Her babies had been left alone with that freak of nature while she had been right there, asleep! How foolish of her! What awful things had he done to them…

Two warm, vibrating bundles in her arms. Oh. So all Ron had done was clean them up for her and give them back.

It was still nighttime, and Kim was still very tired, but she was so excited. She wanted to see their faces. The one on the right was the girl, she could tell, so the one on the left was the boy. Kim was disappointed to see that her little girl's eyes were closed, but she could still make out the tuft of light-colored hair peeking from beneath her blanket. Red or blond, she couldn't tell yet.

She looked at her little boy and saw, to her delight, that his eyes were open. But as Kim held him in her arms, he stared blankly into space, thrusting his arms upward as if looking for something—and Kim marveled to herself, wondering if it meant anything.

--

Two figures ambled easily through the twisting hallways of the mega-lair in which they lived. The raven-haired woman on the left swayed and struggled to keep her tower of off-balance papers upright. She grunted as her emerald eyes strained to peer over the top of the rustling mass. A man followed slightly behind her, biting a little nervously on his tiny blue fingers, obviously deep in thought.

"Shego," he said, breaking the silence.

"What now." Her tone was slightly annoyed and preoccupied with keeping her papers afloat.

Drakken said simply, "I don't like this."

Shego took a few seconds to look at him. "What?"

"I don't like this," he repeated. "This whole setup, it just feels… wrong somehow. I mean, I know we've always plotted to take over the world in the past, but I just… I don't know. It's not like I don't like ruling an entire country, I just never thought that Stoppable would have the guts to actually do something this monumental."

The green-skinned woman rolled her eyes. "You're talking nonsense. We have everything we could've ever hoped for, and we didn't even have to work for it! All we have to do is stay out of Stoppable's hair and we're chauncey. We've got our own countries, our own people to rule, heck, we even get to name the place. Now shut up and stop being so paranoid; someone might think you're questioning authority."

"Since when did you care about authority?" he poked.

"I don't," she shot back. "But it just so happens that I _do_ own a lovely private island in the Philippines, and I don't wish to lose it. Now if you'll excuse me," she said, brushing past him and entering an automatic door on the left. As he watched her, Drakken frowned.

"I just think something's up," he muttered. The door slammed shut in his face.

--

A dark-clad silhouette glided down the stone hallways. His footsteps echoed off the cold walls, making what anyone else would call an eerie sound—but to him, it was a melody he was quite familiar with. Lamps on the walls flickered and jumped; although they were solar-powered, sucking energy from above ground, Ron thought the flickering lights would make the hallways seem more dungeon-y.

They did their job well.

But perhaps the most surprising thing about this place wasn't what _was_ there, but what _wasn't_. Someone would expect black-cloaked executioners decked out in chains and cross necklaces standing around holding axes, or perhaps a skeletal old gatekeeper sweeping the floors, his keys rattling eerily behind him. There was no scurrying of rats, or dripping of water, or clinking of doors and shackles, or even the groans and wails of prisoners.

There was just… nothing. A hallway, a door, a cell, a person. That was all.

Ron inserted the key and felt it grind in the lock. The door swung open to reveal an area just large enough for someone to stand in front of a row of metal bars. He walked in and stood in front of Josh.

The poor boy was dirty and ragged, and for a split second, Ron almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Being the supreme ruler of the world, Ron decided to speak up first. "So, do you like the new setup? I did some redecorating."

There was a short silence, then the prisoner said, "What did you do to them?" His voice scratched and caught in his throat.

Ron feigned innocence. "Who?"

"The… the people that were in here before… with me. My… friends."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Josh's gray eyes lit up with anger. "Listen, freak, I know you did something to them. I was so used to hearing their voices, the scraping of their chains against the stones, just like mine, and then… you had to go and take them away from me!"

The challenger chuckled and leaned forward a little, shaking his head in mock pity. "My dear Josh," he said, "I have done nothing to your so-called friends. I hate to break it to you, but they deserted you. They all left… but they didn't feel like taking you along." There was hatred in the older boy's eyes, but Ron saw a twinge of uncertainty there as well. _Gotcha._

Now for the clincher. "Or maybe…" he continued, "…maybe they don't even exist."

He laughed at the fear in the other man's eyes. "It's all in your head, Mankey. It's all in your head." Ron turned around as if to leave, but then hesitated like he suddenly remembered something important. "Oh," he said, "I forgot to tell you… congratulations. You're a father."

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah." Ron shook his head woefully. "Unfortunately, that doesn't sit too well with my plans."

Josh stared stupidly.

"Oh, come on, Joshie, work with me!" he huffed, frustrated. "Your wife… Kim Possible… had your kids yesterday—erm, this morning. Whatever. I know because I was there.

"Anyway, the point is, you're getting in the way of everything." He twisted his body to reach behind him, and he pulled out a gun. Josh's eyes widened as he recognized the shining silver barrel in the sparse moonlight.

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" he stuttered.

"I told you, you're getting in the way." Ron paused and took a breath. He actually… felt guilty about what he had to do next. "Listen… I know you probably won't believe me, but I'll explain it to you, anyway. I don't believe in senseless killing, Josh, I really don't. I like to think everything has a purpose: me, you, this gun in my hand. And right now, you're not really fitting into my 'big picture' I had painted for the future."

Ron aimed. "I really am sorry."

Josh's pupils dilated, and he slipped into a semi-conscious state—his body was expecting death, and his brain was pumped full of carefree answers he could say in his last breaths. "Then don't do it," he said recklessly.

"I have to."

"No, you don't. You always have a choice. Don't pick the wrong one."

Ron cocked it and fired.


	4. Desert Places

**Disclaimer:** "Kim Possible" belongs to Mike and Brian… OOPS, wrong fandom. I mean, "KP" belongs to Mark and Bob. There we go.

**Author's Notes:** Before you read this chapter, I must let you know that **I HAVE ADDED SOME INFORMATION TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. PLEASE GO BACK AND READ THAT BEFORE CONTINUING ANY FURTHER IN THIS STORY.** It should clear things up a lot for you and make way for this new chapter. And if you happened to not read this author's note the first time and are totally like, "WtC?" Shame on you.

So, yeah. Haven't updated in forever… But I thought I would let you know that this story will get finished. Maybe just not as quickly as you or I would like. I suppose I could give you some long-winded rant about how horribly busy my life is, and maybe in some ways, it kind of is. But that's still no excuse for my lack of updates. I am only 15, and my adolescent mind simply cannot comprehend how some people can be so interested in a story I find such trouble in writing. Thankfully, inspiration has struck, and I'm ready for another shot at updating.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reviewing and reading this far. Even if you don't leave feedback, it still means a lot to me that you took the time to click on my link.

Thanks to The Real Sidekick (as usual), Solarstone, and Aqua94 for reviewing last time around.

**To Build an Empire**

"_Desert Places"_

The scar-faced man entered through the automatic doors of his bed chambers, muttering incoherently under his breath. He sat down heavily on the bed and ran tiny fingers through his greasy black hair. So many things were bouncing around in his turbulent mind—more so than usual.

Something was off. Something was wrong. He needed to fix it.

But how?

Stoppable wasn't acting normally; somehow he had lulled the others' disbelieving ears with soothing lies and taunting half-truths. He had filled their minds with promises and partnerships and _results_ that tasted far sweeter to their embittered tongues than Drakken's own half-hearted pleas. He was just _too good_.

And that was a bad thing.

Drakken rubbed his eye thoughtfully. It wasn't as if he hated ruling an entire country; it had been his dream all along. But he kind of wanted to do it himself. When that sidekick had come along and just defeated the whole world so easily, brought them to their knees with the swiftness of a circling hawk, he felt empty—and now a twinge of jealousy and uneasiness was constantly gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

He needed to get rid of this problem. This feeling. This awful _just knowing_ that something was terribly, awfully, horribly **wrong**. This "benevolent" dictatorship wasn't the way the world was supposed to turn. Through many hardships and turmoils, Drew Lipsky had finally come to the realization that the world could not be ruled by one man alone—though that would not stop him from continuing to try. He didn't really care if he controlled the world; the whole fun of it was just trying—and fighting Kim Possible, of course.

But Ron… Ron was just off. He didn't care about the "fun" or the fighting or keeping the world in balance. He didn't purposely continue to build weapon after weapon, or continue to imagine scheme after scheme, just to be blown to oblivion. Then to come back and do it all over again.

When Drakken started, he _knew_ he would never successfully take over the world. And that was OK with him. Sure, he enjoyed doing bad things, kidnapping people, and threatening the world with horrible machines, but for the most part, the people were unharmed, his threats idle, and his machines obsolete. Ron… or Zorpox, whomever… didn't spare people's lives. He _really_ built machines that _really_ hurt people.

And, Drew realized, he didn't like it.

It was wrong, it was off.

He stood up from where he sat on the bed. Call him stupid, but the villain thought he had finally grown a conscience. He had to do something.

--

The tower was large and lonely. The cold stone floors and empty metal walls felt more like a prison than a home. But as time went on, Kim realized there was only one room in the whole complex that she felt she could be truly at ease, and this was the workout room.

Mats and dummies lined the walls, and thick hardwood covered the floor. It felt warm and homey compared to the polished steel and shining tile of the rest of the building. The red-haired woman stood in an offensive stance, mind and body ready. She began throwing sharp punches and kicks at the punching bag hanging before her. A white, chalky dust erupted whenever her fist or her foot connected with the sand-filled bag.

Kim still had a bit of pudge from being just recently pregnant, but her young body combined with her vigorous training routines had greatly diminished any remaining fat she had. Her little boy and girl sat quietly in their baby carriers off to the side; there was no way Kim would leave them alone for one second, even if she was training.

Sweat began to pour down her face as she attacked the bag with more fervor. _This is his fault. I can't believe this._

For a while, there had been a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something just short of uneasiness and contempt was gnawing away at her insides, and she knew it had something to do with Ron. _It's his fault. Although he has been acting strangely…_ _different lately._

She didn't know what to think. It was his fault, she told herself, yet she couldn't help but still feel a small tug on her heartstrings. He had been her best friend for so long; it was just so hard to think of him as anything but. But all the things he had done to her, done to _them_, done to the world was slowly eating away at her. _Could this erosion of my soul ever be reversed? I am not the same as I once was. I think I feel… regret._ The never-ending record player that had come along so long ago in the back of that squad car had now resurfaced. The redhead thought she had buried it for good; but the seeds of doubt had been planted, and they had taken root in her mind. All she could do was push them back and try to forget.

But every once in a while, on days like today, they would spring up with greater fervor and intensity than ever before.

Kim hated these days.

So she released all of her feelings on the punching bag, kicking and ripping and tearing through it until there was barely anything left of either of them.

A familiar voice greeted her ears and interrupted her thoughts. "Hey."

She whirled around to see Ron standing at the door of the room, completely decked out in his usual black garb. "What do you want?" she spat venomously.

"Nothing." He walked further into the room. "I just thought I would come see what you were up to."

His smooth voice calmed her nerves, and her tense muscles relaxed just a bit. She was still on edge. "Why?" she questioned.

"'Cause I wanted to." As if that was a good enough explanation.

Kim's green eyes traveled to her sleeping twins, then back to the man before her. When she saw her son, staring purposelessly into empty space, she felt another, hotter fire rekindled within her. She lunged at Ron with the ferocity of a feral tiger. "I hate you!" she growled as she tackled him to the ground. He landed beneath her in a whoosh of air and looked at her with an almost confused look on his face.

"What?"

"Stop playing stupid!" she spat. Kim began throwing punches and kicks at him. Ron managed to roll out from underneath her and did his best to block her attacks. This only made her more frustrated. "I know this is all your fault." She kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over, but did not fall. "My life is a mess, this world is screwed over…" Her knee connected with his back, and the blond man fell to his knees. "I hate you!"

Tears stung at her eyes as she glared at her former friend with embittered loathing. "It's all your fault!" she screamed at him. "My son is _blind_ because of you!"

He looked up, and brown eyes connected with green. His face was a mask devoid of any emotion, but there was one tiny crack. One small sliver of light so small and so minute that the raging Possible immediately dismissed it—it was shame. He, clad in black, superior to all, on his knees before his most hated enemy, felt… ashamed. But she did not notice.

Ron rose to his feet. "Kim, I—" He reeled back as her fist connected with his face. He fell on the ground but didn't say a word.

"Why don't you fight back?" she said, the obvious tears streaming down her face. "Why do you only block and defend when I am attacking you with such vigor? I hate you, and you hate me back! You are a coward for not fighting me!" Kim yelled at him. He did not move.

Then Kim said something so quietly that her opponent almost did not hear her. "I know what you did to Josh."

He wiped the blood from his brow and looked at her with an impassive gaze. "What—?"

Her stormy eyes were now full of sadness and pain. "I know what you did to him," she repeated softly. Her fists clenched in agony, and the tears poured forth. "I know he is dead."

Ron stood there, his face still a mask of anything short of emotion. But on the inside, his soul was fighting with itself, ready to explode from the turmoil raging within. How did she know? Did he make the right choice? Perhaps Josh was right about all this… No. He could not let himself be swayed by such stupid and childish thoughts. He had already embraced his mature destiny; there was no turning back now.

Kim looked at him, searching his features for the emotions or conflict she had missed before. Maybe… maybe there was still something down there beneath all that black, something left of the old Ron. The Ron she had loved. But her searching came up short; his dark eyes were as blank as ever. She turned away, partially in shame because of her childish hopes, and partially disgusted that he could be so effectively void of anything. She pulled a strand of sweaty hair behind her ear, gathered her two sleeping children, and left the room.

It was a long time before Ron followed her out.

--

Ron traveled through the complex, never once staying in one room for too long. He walked through the kitchen and grabbed himself a cup of coffee with chocolate and whipped cream before heading back to his office. As he sat at his large desk, sipping his coffee and staring out over his vast kingdom, he contemplated the loneliness he felt deep in the pit of his soul.

He enjoyed his life right now. It was perfect, and everything was running smoothly and like he wanted it to. He was literally the most powerful man in the world. But he felt his mind had been corrupted by that red-haired woman and her late husband. He reached a hand into his pocket and felt the wedding ring he had taken from Kim a while ago, before her twins were born. Why did he do that? Why did he care if she was married to some jerk who really didn't love her? What did it mean to him if she screwed over her life for a love that was nonexistent?

Ron wasn't usually one to brood and contemplate over the minute details of life, but this one had him stumped. He had loved her more than she could ever imagine; why would she leave that behind?

And more importantly, why did he care so much?

He got up and walked towards one of the huge ceiling-to-floor windows, running a gloved hand through his sandy hair. He was supposed to be cold, stoic, emotionless; he was supposed to hate Kim Possible for what she had done to him and be willing to stop at nothing to get her back.

…_But do you want revenge, or do you simply wish to win her over again?…_

He shook his head and nearly laughed at the notion. What a preposterous idea! He had simply taken over the world so he could prove his worth and his invaluable genius. He was sick and tired of being taken advantage of, and if he could prove to everyone… prove to Kim… that he was worth something, then he would do it no matter what.

Right?

He placed a gloved hand over the polished glass. Ron tried to look past his reflection and see the world he had created outside, but all he could see was the mirror image of himself staring right back at him. Odd; his skin didn't appear to be as blue as it used to be, even with the tone-changing watch turned off. The bright cerulean had diminished into a cream-colored sky blue—the color of a freshly-packed glacier reflecting the ocean at one of the world's icy Poles.

He ran his hand up and down, suddenly getting the odd urge to feel the heat-spun sand cleanly beneath his fingertips. Ron removed his glove and placed his fingers back upon the glass. It felt cold beneath his warm hand.

That was even odder. It had been a while since he had felt so hot on the inside. Probably just the coffee he drank.

He examined his hand and marveled at the complex intricacies of the human body. So many working parts, all functioning perfectly in sync with one another. Humans were a miracle of nature; in all honesty, people really shouldn't exist at all. They were far too complex to make it even past the first small stages of evolution.

Besides, the rules of the world stated that things became simpler, not more complex. Perhaps, then, a being even greater than himself was at work here, running and dictating and _allowing_ everything that went on.

If that was true, then why was he allowed to live? Why was he allowed to create such a perfect utopia when so many people were complaining about his methods? Was he good or was he bad? A madman searching for his mind, or a simple man trying to escape the all-consuming void of his own despair?

His uncovered hand found its way over his heart. It used to beat strongly and full of purpose; but now it was weak and sporadic. It had no reason, no will to spasm the way it did, pushing blood throughout his body.

And, Ron realized with increasing concern, that things were definitely _not_ the way they used to be. He had been swept away by his rage and this uncertain will to be evil, to get back at everyone for ever thinking badly of him. But now, the storms had receded and had left him stranded in a strange land with cold and foreign emotions.

The blond man ran his hand down the glass, streaking it with oil. He was trapped inside himself, he thought, desperately trying to escape his own desert places.


	5. Lullaby

**Disclaimer:** Dude. _Kim Possible_. Don't own. Disney does. Need I say more?

**Author's Notes:** So I had originally planned to get this out before the end of last month… HAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, right. (rolls eyes) What a loser. Well, I apologize for making y'all wait so long for the conclusion of this thing, but I'm just glad it's finally here _at all_.

This chapter is considerably shorter than the rest _only_ because it's the semi-epilogue-yet-still-a-vital-chapter type thing. So, if it seems too short, I sincerely apologize, and I hope you'll forgive me.

Many special thanks to Solarstone, eko-9, and The Real Sidekick for reviewing last time around. You guys rock and roll! The peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the boomer- to my -ang…

Thanks for reading even if you didn't leave feedback.

**To Build an Empire**

"_Lullaby"_

The pale moon rose slowly over the bleak buildings, casting a surreal glow over the dingy skyline. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon; but instead of being content with a calming show like his lunar counterpart, the Sun leapt at the chance to fight and spewed out a myriad of burning oranges, reds, and yellows. The sun was just giving it one last go before handing the show over to _Yué_ and covering its bright glow in a cloak of darkness and mystery. The Moon and its small companions sent soft, yet white-hot pinpoints of light shining out across the velvety dusk and cast odd shadows over the ragged, war-torn city.

Ron stood there beneath the balanced glow of the Moon and Sun, feeling somewhat foolish and restless. What had happened that had changed his demeanor so drastically?

…Perhaps it was something important. Perhaps it wasn't anything at all. Or perhaps he was simply going crazy, stuck in his own crazed pit of insanity. How irksome.

Ron frowned; he was getting more and more sentimental by the moment. He didn't know if this was an emblem of his shattered façade or an omen of his downfall. Perhaps time would tell.

--

Drakken clutched the small paper parcel tightly to his chest and crept as quietly as he could down the hallways. He tried to be as silent as possible without looking suspicious to the guards and security crew, but it was a difficult task. He had an important job to do—he was a man on a mission now, and he couldn't afford to blow it all because of his poor stealth skills.

He walked around the winding complex for what seemed like hours before arriving at his destination. The blue-skinned man placed his parcel down on the kitchen table and quickly scribbled a note on the back of a piece of paper: _"To: Shego. From: Drakken."_

It was his gift to her. Perhaps now they could both be free.

--

Kimberly Possible shifted the baby on her hip and walked silently down the stark, empty hallways, quietly whispering a psalm to him. She didn't consider herself very religious, but if she dared call herself a Christian, she thought she might as well sing them to her children. Her little girl was awake but silent back in her carrier. The young mother assumed she would be safe while her mother and brother went for a walk.

"…Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. And give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we also forgive those who have trespassed against us…"

--

Ron started at the sound of his giant wooden doors being pushed open. He whirled to see Kim and her son standing in the doorway. "I thought you might be here," she said. Ron stayed silent.

The redhead pressed on, moving on from his silence and taking it as acceptance. She stood beside him, gazing at the moonrise and bouncing her child softly. She hummed a little song to herself and her boy. The silence stayed unbroken as both parts of a whole stared out a glazed piece of glass—so close, yet miles apart from being complete.

--

Drakken cast his beady eyes over the metal door, took a breath, and entered. He gazed tenderly at the sleeping form in the bed before him. "Shego," he whispered.

His female counterpart was awake in a moment. "What is it, Doc?"

"Come with me." A retribution and a sardonic remark were on the tip of her tongue, but the doctor's words were said with such genuine trepidation and concern that the words died along with her biting sarcasm. The green villainess got out of bed and slipped into the bathroom for only a moment to change out of her nightgown. In a second, she was out again, and Shego silently followed her employer down the hallways into the maze of corridors, rooms, and laboratories beyond.

She gazed at his back, uncombed black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She mentally asked herself the obvious questions and was about to voice them when the duo appeared at a huge wooden door—the second (and largest) of only two in the entire complex. Shego watched as Drakken quickly entered several codes on the small keypad and grinned when a satisfying 'beep' emanated from the machine and the large doors swung outward.

Shego shielded her emerald eyes from the dimming outside light. "Where are we, Drakken?" she hissed. He silently shushed her and grabbed her hand, pulling her down along the winding outside path. They used the dark cover of twilight and shadows to shield their escape as they made their way out of the palace and onto the small hills beyond.

--

"It's a lovely night," Kim said softly, staring out across Ron's kingdom and clutching her child tightly. She mentally slapped herself for her poor attempt at starting conversation. She felt like an idiot.

And then he surprised her. "Yes," he replied, gazing at her from the corner of his eye, "it is."

--

The dim twilight was silent; the only thing audible for a hundred miles were the sounds of the distant outskirts of Middleton still bustling with activity, and Dr. Drakken's own ragged breathing. Shego looked at him from their position crouched behind a boulder on the crest of the hill and placed a manicured finger over his lips. "You're going to give us away," she said quietly. He nodded, eyes wide, and attempted to slow his breathing. Her years of training and kung-fu allowed her to peer inconspicuously over their hiding place and cast a piercing gaze over her so-called "home." The palace. Shego looked at Drakken again. "What now?" she breathed.

He only smiled. "I never knew why you stayed with me," he said softly. "It's the least I can do to pay you back. I think I can give you what you've always wanted."

Her emerald eyes widened. What…?

His small, black-clad hands slipped into his labcoat and pulled out a small, square piece of metal—a remote. Shego looked at him and couldn't help but notice his hands were trembling. "Is that…?"

Once again, he only smiled.

She reached out to touch it, and he captured her rough yet lovely hands in his own. When she didn't protest, Drakken moved her fingers over the small, seemingly insignificant, lonely button on his remote. Dark blue slid over light green as pressure was applied to the shiny red orb. Shego looked on in awe as a concussive blast of energy rocked the globe, and her entire world went up in an angry tumultuous explosion of dark red and the blackest black.

--

Ron looked on as Kim held her young male child as she affectionately sung a lullaby to him. His sensitive ears twitched and his eyelids drooped over clouded irises as his mother's voice graced his ears.

_Now I lay me down to sleep_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep…_

--

She didn't finish. The blast rocked the palace… prison… Kimberly had just reluctantly begun to call her home and engulfed it in a cloud of inky black, gray, and fiery red. She looked on in shock and could only stare at Ron as the building rocked; all he could manage to do was stare right back.

And for a moment, just a small, tiny moment, Kim saw something in him that _wasn't_ dark. _Wasn't_ black. _Wasn't_ Zorpox. It was Ron. Kim grabbed his hand and clutched her son to her chest just as he began to cry. They fell to the ground together, stuck in a lover's embrace, as the angry, white-hot flames licked up the building at four times the speed of sound. Her screams mixed with his as their whole world came crashing down around them; she continued to hold his hand, and he continued to squeeze back as the intense heat melted their flesh and permanently bonded them together in a macabre death grip. Her soul slipped away with a silent farewell to this life. All Kim could do now was hope that Ron had gained redemption.

The three of them lay at the bottom of a smoldering pile of metal, their bones and skin still permanently attached; the world all but sighed as it was released from its overlord's death grip as he and his lover slipped into another dimension.

--

…_And if I die before I wake_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take._


End file.
